by Cox, Carol
No amount of tears or pleading could sway him from his resolve. Hallie now made it a point to retreat to her room when she felt tears threaten. There, she could bury her face in her pillow to muffle her sobs and save herself from being subjected to more of her father’s scathing comments.
The loose fit of her clothes told her she had lost weight over the past few weeks. If she needed confirmation, she had only to stand in front of the mirror to see her sunken cheeks and the hollow circles under her eyes.
What was Jacob doing? The question pounded in her mind every moment of every day. Had he overcome his bitterness and reconciled his anger at God for allowing him to be injured? Was he any closer to ferreting out the band of rustlers?
And did she invade his thoughts as often as he did hers?
Hallie might be denied Jacob’s physical presence, but he was with her in her dreams, her thoughts, in every fiber of her being. Without him, her familiar world felt out of kilter, as though she moved through it as a stranger. What used to be reality now seemed like a dream world, one from which she wished she could wake up and find herself in Jacob’s arms.
She drained the water from the sink and used the dishcloth to wipe down the counter. Her hands moved in practiced strokes, mechanically following the same routine they had so many times before. But her mind wheeled freely, sifting through a myriad of thoughts in search of a way to escape her anguish.
If she could only find a way to send a message to him and to get word in return. More than once, she had considered sending a note along with one of the hands. But her father had made it clear that all contact between Hallie and Jacob was to be cut off, and the hands’ first loyalty was to her father. Any message she tried to send through them would surely wind up in his hands.
She wet the cloth again and started on the dining table. Her hands began to quiver again, and she crossed her arms, clamping them tight against her sides. If she never heard from Jacob again. . .
No. She pushed that grim thought out of her mind. There had to be a way. She just had to find it.
In her more daring moments, she made plans to sneak off the place without her father’s knowledge and ride to the T Bar in the hope of finding Jacob there. The thought of what her father would do if he caught up with her was enough to put an end to those schemes before she worked up enough nerve to put them into practice.
Hallie pressed her fists against her temples. There has to be a way. Think!
The front door banged open. Hallie jumped and clutched the dishcloth to her chest, making a damp circle on the front of her dress. She heard the sound of several pairs of feet entering from the front porch. Now what?
She set the dishcloth down and pushed through the swinging door. “Pa?”
Her father stood near the fireplace, facing Edgar Wilson and Lee Moore. All three of the men turned stony faces toward her.
Despite the summer warmth, Hallie felt a chill run down her arms. She forced her dry throat to swallow. “Can I get you anything?”
“Just coffee, then leave us alone. We’re talking business.”
Stung by the curt reply, Hallie ducked back into the kitchen without another word. She grabbed the nearly full coffeepot from the stove and set it on a tray along with three mugs. A sob rose up in her throat, and she choked it back down.
It’s a good thing he didn’t ask for more in the way of refreshments. She hadn’t bothered to bake a cake or roll out a piecrust in weeks. These days, she could barely manage just getting through the basic routine from day to day.
She lifted the tray and backed through the swinging door just in time to hear Edgar Wilson ask, “What do you plan to do if they turn out to be the ones behind it?”
Her father snorted. “I plan to take a short rope and find me a tall tree, that’s what.”
Hallie gasped. The mugs rattled against the tray.
All three ranchers wheeled and looked her way. Avoiding their glances, she walked across the room with an air of calm she did not feel and set the tray down on a side table. She poured coffee into each mug, then walked back to the kitchen, schooling her features not to betray her.
As soon as the door swung shut behind her, she pushed it open again, just the barest crack. She pressed her ear against the tiny opening and listened.
“What about that so-called range detective?” Hallie recognized Edgar Wilson’s irate tone. She clamped her lips together and held her breath, anxious not to miss a word they said about Jacob.
Her father made a sound of disgust. “You haven’t seen him make any arrests, have you? The young fool wasn’t any good before I shot him; he’s worth even less now.”
Grim chuckles followed his remark. Hallie had to restrain herself from bursting into the front room and flying to Jacob’s defense. It would serve her purpose better to hear the rest of whatever the men had to say.
Lee Moore finally spoke, his nasal voice easy to distinguish from the others. “So we just ignore him? We don’t let him know what we’re doing?”
“It’ll be easier that way,” Hallie’s father responded. “Easier and less likely to be botched up like the last time.”
Hallie covered her mouth with both hands to hold back her cry of dismay. Tears welled up in her eyes. What are they up to? Whatever it might be, it boded ill for Jacob.
Edgar Wilson spoke again. “So what’s the plan?” Hallie swiped the tears away with her fingertips and pressed closer to the door. She must not miss a syllable.
“You and Moore need to get back to your ranches and gather your riders,” her father said. “Send the men you trust most to notify the other ranchers that we’re going to settle this thing tonight.”
A chair scraped on the wood floor, then her father’s voice went on. “Wilson, your riders will cover the area to the north and east. Moore, yours will take in every place to the south and west. Tell them to round up as many men as they can and meet here this afternoon.”
“What time?” Lee Moore asked.
“I say we make it four o’clock, no later than five. We’ll catch those nesters napping and put an end to this foolishness.”
A scream rose in Hallie’s throat, and she clapped her hands over her mouth again. Ropes. Nesters. They couldn’t be planning—
“That’s a lot of territory to cover in just a few hours,” Moore put in.
“He has a point,” Edgar Wilson said. “Will we have time to reach everyone? What about O’Roarke? He’s so tight with Garrett there doesn’t seem to be much point in sending a man to his place. I can’t see him agreeing to go with us, and he’d be more than likely to try to warn Garrett.”
“Agreed. We don’t want to give Garrett an inkling about what’s going on and have him out there trying to save his precious nesters.”
Hallie couldn’t stand it another minute. She slammed the door open and rushed to stand before her father.
All three ranchers stared at her open-mouthed.
“What’s the matter with you?” her father bellowed. “I told you we had to talk business.”
“Is that what you call this? Business?” Hallie pivoted slowly to look at each of them in turn. “Are you all crazy? You’re planning to murder innocent people.”
“Innocent?” Wilson’s lips drew back in a sneer. “Not very.”
Hallie turned back to her father. He had a solid core of good sense, if only she could get through to him. “What proof do you have?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” he said in a flat, emotionless tone that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “Look at them living up there the way they do, keeping out of sight of the rest of us. Pete thinks I’m right, too,” he added with a note of triumph. “He said he’s seen a couple of them in places they had no business being, and that happened right around the time some of our cattle went missing.”
Hallie shook her head in disbelief. “You know that wouldn’t stand up in court. If you have any real evidence, turn it over to the law. Sheriff Ruffner hates rustling
as much as anyone. He’ll see that justice is done.” She didn’t dare bring Jacob into it. No telling what the mere mention of his name might stir up, with the mood these men were in.
“What do you know about the law?” Her father waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Go back to the kitchen and quit wasting our time. We’ve got plans to make.”
Hallie grabbed his arms. “Plans for murder, Pa? Mama always said she could hold her head up high, knowing you were a man who cared about the truth. Well, where is the truth in this? Do you think she would be proud of what you’re doing today?”
Her father brought his hands up and seized her wrists in an iron grip. “Don’t you question what I’m doing. I’m trying to save the living of every rancher in this valley. If you can’t understand that. . .” He thrust her away from him. “Now go to your room and stay there.”
A band of fear tightened around her chest. “But I can’t let—”
“Enough!” Her father’s roar echoed through the room. “I told you to go to your room. Now get!”
Twenty
Hallie lay across her bed, spent from the force of her crying. She stared dully at the sharp, ridged creases on her sheets where her hands had twisted them into knots.
Her pillow was a sodden lump beneath her cheek. Just when she thought she had used up all the tears left in her, a fresh wave of grief would wash over her to prove her wrong. But after an hour of weeping, the well had dried up. She pressed the tips of her fingers to her swollen eyelids and lay still, listening to the ragged sound of her breathing.
She had known grief when her mother died. But back then, she had her father to lean on. Now, the knowledge that he had turned away from her, bent on carrying out his heinous idea, plunged her into a depth of despair she couldn’t have imagined before today.
Hallie rolled to her side and brushed her hand across her face. Damp strands of hair trailed across her cheek, glued to her skin by her own tears.
The meeting ended some time ago. She had heard the clomp of the men’s boots on the front porch, then listened to the sound of hoofbeats fading into the distance. Wilson and Moore were gone, off to spread the word about a meeting that would stir up more trouble than this valley had ever seen—and ruin her father’s life in the process.
“Hallie?” Her father’s voice rumbled on the other side of her bedroom door.
She wrapped her arms around the tear-soaked pillow and held it against her chest. He could send her to her room; he couldn’t force her to talk to him.
“Hallie?” he called again. “I’m going after Pete and the rest of the boys.” He paused, then tapped uncertainly on the door.
Another pause, then: “Hallie!” His pounding shook the walls and set her hairbrush vibrating on the top of her dresser.
She bit her lip until she tasted blood. Not for anything would she give him the satisfaction of a reply.
“All right.” His voice carried a note of barely suppressed fury. “Have it your way. If you want to keep your door closed, then it’ll stay closed until I get back.”
Hallie heard a snick in the lock, then her pa’s heavy footsteps pounding across the floor.
The front door slammed. Hallie waited until she felt sure he wouldn’t be coming back, then she slipped out of bed and crossed the room. She gripped the knob and jiggled it. No. He wouldn’t. . .
She grabbed the knob with both hands and twisted it with all her might. When that had no effect, she shook it back and forth until the door rattled in its frame. It didn’t give.
He did. Hallie stared at the locked door, feeling like she had received a final blow. The strength drained from her limbs, and she tottered back to sprawl across the bed. Realization settled over her like a heavy cloak. She was a prisoner in her own room.
The tears flowed afresh.
❧
A hot, stuffy feeling replaced the morning coolness inside the house, reminding Hallie of how much time had passed. What was happening out there beyond the confines of her prison?
Had Edgar Wilson and Lee Moore had time to get back to their respective ranches? Hallie could picture them gathering their riders and sending them to bear their message of vengeance and death across the valley. And her own pa. . .
A shuddering moan rose from deep within when she thought of what he intended to do. What had happened to the father she had loved all her life? Jacob was right, Pa. You need to forgive. Your anger and bitterness have turned you into a stranger, someone I don’t want to know.
Hallie pushed herself up to sit on the edge of her bed. What were the nesters doing at this moment? She could imagine them going about their usual routine, never dreaming that this day would be their last, that in a few hours death would descend on them in the form of grim-faced vigilantes.
Would they scatter and run or stand and fight? When would they realize there would be no escape, that the only future left to them involved a tree branch and a rope?
“Nooo!” The scream tore from Hallie’s throat. She clutched at her hair with both hands. “Dear Lord, don’t let my father’s bitterness turn him into a murderer!”
Someone had to stop this madness, but there was no one.
Except her. Hallie stumbled to her feet and flung herself at the door. She pounded on it with both fists, but to no avail. Bracing herself, she raised her foot and kicked at the bottom panels.
Nothing happened.
Hallie shrieked in an agony of frustration. She clawed at the door, knowing it was futile, yet unable to stop herself. She had to get out. There had to be a way.
What about the window? Feeling foolish for not thinking of it before, she lifted her voice in a prayer of thanks and rushed across the room. She shoved the window wide open, then gathered her skirt and climbed onto the sill.
She teetered there for a moment, knowing she had reached the point of no return. Once she left the house in defiance of her father’s orders, she would cross a line from which she could never turn back. Be with me, Lord. I have to save those nesters.
I have to save my father. Hallie pushed herself out away from the sill and dropped to the ground.
She edged along the back of the house, then peered around the corner. She looked around the yard, halfway expecting her father to appear at any moment.
“He’s gone.” She said the words aloud, as if hearing the words spoken would provide added reassurance. “You’ve been given a gift of time. Make the most of it.”
It took several attempts to saddle Gypsy. Hallie’s fingers felt like wooden blocks as she fumbled to pull the cinch strap under the mare’s belly, then buckle it in place. Finally the task was finished.
She led the horse outside the barn and swung up into the saddle. Which way should she go? Panic seized her. If she ran into her father, she didn’t want to think about what would happen. Worse yet, what if she came across Pete, alone and unprotected?
Hallie forced herself to think. Her father had gone after Pete. Which way had he ridden? She squeezed her eyes shut tight to help her concentrate, then remembered her pa saying something about the hands all being up on the north range.
The decision had been made for her. She turned Gypsy toward the south and dug her heels in the mare’s sides. She had to get to Jacob before it was too late.
❧
Once out of sight of the house, she realized the utter impossibility of the task she had set for herself. The valley itself covered a large territory, and the boundaries of Jacob’s jurisdiction extended many miles beyond that in all directions. He was out there somewhere in that vast land; that much she knew. But where? Covering the whole area would take days.
Maybe she ought to acknowledge it as a fool’s errand and turn back now. She started to rein Gypsy around, then froze. What if she didn’t make it back to the house before her father discovered she was missing? The thought was enough to change her mind. She had no choice now but to go on.
Hallie looked overhead and marked the sun’s position, just past its zenith. She had less t
han four hours to locate Jacob and get back to the house in time to stop her father.
“Where is he, Lord? Please help me to find him.” If she had been able to choose freely, she would have ridden to the T Bar. If Jacob wasn’t there, Dan O’Roarke might have some idea as to his whereabouts. And even if not, she knew Dan would not hesitate to saddle up and help her look for Jacob—or ride down to the Broken Box and help stand off the vigilantes himself.
But Pete was somewhere up on the north range, between her and the T Bar. No telling which part of the range he might be on. He could well be several miles away from the route that would take her to the O’Roarkes’ home, but she couldn’t rely on that.
With that option eliminated, Hallie breathed a quick prayer and set off toward the southwest. She needed to avoid the nearest ranches as much as possible. Wilson’s and Moore’s messengers would have started stirring things up already. Even now, riders from the other ranches might be on their way to the Broken Box with bloodlust in their hearts. It wouldn’t pay to put herself in their way.
Not only that. Hallie groaned when she realized the other side of her dilemma. The gossip level of some of the cowboys would put a contingent of little old ladies to shame. Some of them had surely heard of her isolation from Jacob by now. If they caught her out there on her own, they might well feel duty-bound to return her to her father. And that meant. . .
Hallie’s lips tightened. It meant she would have to stay away from everyone. She had no way of knowing who would help or hinder her until it was too late. She kept to the washes and other low areas, as intent on hiding her tracks as she was on finding Jacob.
The sun continued its inexorable march across the sky. An hour passed. Then another. Hallie crisscrossed the area to the west and south of the Broken Box. She never saw a living soul, not even cowhands traveling to join her father in his deadly foray. Hallie stood in her stirrups and gazed from one side of the valley to the other. Where, Lord?